


you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones

by theviolonist



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:38:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theviolonist/pseuds/theviolonist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you live in darkness, the darkness becomes part of you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones

During the few weeks they’re - well, not together as much as _together_ , but it’s not like there’s much time for anything else - it’s always fast and dirty, rushed, one of them pushed against a hatch and the other bent forward, a raven picking on exposed bones. The truth is - the truth is they’re what they are, cheaters, dirty cheaters, and a part of them enjoys that, and it’s the part that kisses with lips full of blood and comes out of those stolen minutes with clockwise bruises like as many tattoos, revenge for that big one Kara got when she shouldn’t have. Or at least that’s what Lee says - that she shouldn’t have. Kara isn’t so sure. Kara is never sure of anything, except when it comes to pushing buttons and firing guns. Then she always knows the right time, and she always hits her mark. 

So here they are: in a deserted row of racks, he has a towel slung over his shoulder, he was planning to take a shower between two CAPs but instead he prefers that, stretching his neck to get to her, fighting to get out of his flight suit, his hands already reaching towards her. The looks on their faces, they’re the same that when they’re following a raider and that right here, my friend, is the problem with their love: it’s predatory, it’s arrogant and it’s black, blacker than the blackest basestar, true and fraught with regret and sorrow and death. Sometimes when he touches her Lee worries that he’ll tear finger-shapes on her skin, tar-black, on her shoulders and thighs, everywhere because he touches her everywhere, he can never get enough. 

She knocks a bottle of ambrosia down when she collapses into him; the sound of glass breaking doesn’t even make her flinch. The smell, heavy, reaches and envelops them. Suddenly Lee feels a little light-headed. Kara’s gaze, dark and uncertain, weighs on him until he finally can’t bear it, thrusts a hand down her sweatpants and forces her to close her eyes. 

And yeah, it ends. Of course it ends. It ends and Lee’s devastated, even though he’s the villain in that story, or at least that’s what he gathered, but Kara won’t talk, has got the art of keeping her jaw screwed shut down to an art (“Thanks to my mother,” she joked once, moved over him in the tight space of her bunk, but he wouldn’t laugh). In the back of his mind Lee thinks it’s for the better, and in another place, even deeper, he imagines what would’ve happened if it’d gone on, and he thinks it was necessary.


End file.
